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Miata Mailing List: February 1997, Message #176
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From: (none) Subject: A little of this, a little of that... Date: (none)
I've been just lurking the list for a few weeks now. Blame it on the fantastic weather we've been having lately -- I've had better things to do than sit in front of this monitor (namely exercising the pivots in my soft top). I thought I'd take the time to avoid my Monday morning pile of problems and raise my voice again in response to all of the great threads we've got going right now... # I am ever thankful to have only lived in states with no front plate requirement. Enough said. # Part of the initial attraction I had to the Miata (and what eventually caused me to trade in my MR2 Turbo) was the fond, fond memories of learning to drive a manual in my father's pride and joy: A 1960 Cinnamon Bugeye Sprite. That little dream of a car, which he bought brand new, is still running to this day. Aside from having to re-tighten all the chassis bolts every spring and the perpetual leaks from the clip-on windows, it's a joy to drive. Any time I make it back home, we take the car out for a spin. One afternoon of wrestling with a soft top that looks like some strange psychedelic tinkertoy set and fiddling with the CHOKE, makes me really appreciate the reliability of the Miata. My dad's actually has a bizarre electrical problem (in an Austin Healey? Say it isn't so!) whereby you can honk the horn by pulling on one of the radio knobs. That has got to be the strangest thing I've ever seen. Granted, the perfect garage would include both cars, but for sheer "will I make it to work today?", the Miata wins hands-down. Our Miatas (Miaten, Miatae, whatever...) even have a smile reminiscent of those old bugeyes. # Shiv-- I hope that someday I will have a chance to ride with you in that terror of a Miata you have built. Here's to all of us living vicariously through the local demigod of horsepower and torque. Seriously now, we all KNOW that you're going to do the nitrous. Please keep us informed as the project progresses. # Gary-- The Web pages look great. Even if we've said it a thousand times before, your hard work and dedication is not going unnoticed. Thanks for giving the miata.net a professional, clean, and above all, attractive face for the rest of the world to judge us by. If the wealth of information available to Miata enthusiasts convinces a single driver to buy a Miata (and as a result realize what all of us here have known for years), your efforts will have paid off. # Bill-- Now we know how you manage to offer such great prices on Miata accessories. Dealer Alternative is, of course, subsidized by your drug tradings. # All this talk of speeding tickets reminds me of my one gray day in traffic court: The scene: New Whiteland Municipal Court, New Whiteland, Indiana: The crime: 105 in a 55. (a brand-new Nissan NX2000, for those curious) The criminal: Me I showed up for the preliminary hearing around 6pm, right after work one Wednesday. I and about 150 fellow offenders sat and waited for several hours as the court worked its way down the list. It was on this day that I was supposed to either plead guilty or not guilty. Finally, after several hours, the Judge asked all of those pleading guilty to just form a line. In the interest of saving time this strange traffic fine assembly line was formed. The procedure was fairly straightforward. Each guilty person would hand their ticket to the bailiff and shuffle across to the Judge. The Judge would look over the violation, assign a fine (which seemed to be $1 per mph over the limit plus court costs) and then the person would shuffle over to the Court Clerk to make payment arrangements. The procedure was constant until me. The Bailiff handed the Judge my ticket and the Judge just paused, reading and digesting the fact that I had nearly doubled the speed limit on Interstate 65. He turned to the citing officer and verified the speed. The State Trooper who had caught me, by the way, had brought several of his friends to the courtroom that evening. It seems that he had never written a ticket that big before (as he had shared with me on several occasions), and was understandably excited about the entire proceeding. "See -- there he is! That's the guy!", he exclaimed as I had walked in to the courthouse earlier. The Judge turned to me, and said "So basically, you were flying low on I65, is that correct?" He smiled, deceptively. I replied that yes, it certainly looked that way. "Let me guess, " he continued, "I'll bet you've been to traffic school as well. Am I right?" I told him that I had been not once, but twice during my short driving career. Both times as a result of numerous speeding violations. "It would appear, Mr. McNett, that you have not learned anything from your schooling." Now, I'm not sure WHY I said what I was about to say. On reflection, I'd have to say that I was simply a foolish young kid. Perhaps I felt, given the Judge's constant joking that evening, that my remark would be well received. I really don't know. I was nervous and responded in possibly the worst way imaginable. "Well, your Honor, I believe that it has taught me how to drive fast much more safely." The entire courtroom laughed (albeit rather nervously) and the Judge simply stared back. If you have ever wished desperately to "take back" something you have said in haste than you probably have some idea of how I felt at that moment. "Son, I could take your license away this very evening, " he started, "but I am not going to do that. Since your speed was more than 25 miles over the posted limit, it was the officer's discretion to simply charge you for speeding as opposed to reckless driving. You should be very thankful that the officer was lenient in that respect. In deference to his judgment regarding the situation, I am simply going to fine you the maximum that the law will allow. $200 plus court costs. I will also advise you, Mr. McNett, that you should make it your mission to never have to appear before this court again. You can be certain that I will be less lenient if we have to do this again." Needless to say, I tend to drive the speed limit whenever I pass through New Whiteland, Indiana. -David McNett nugget@slacker.com (who is glad it's raining today -- it makes being stuck at the office much easier to bear) 1994 M Edition Team Crazy Red Air Horns Team 14DBTDC Timing Team Cracked Windshield